


i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you

by shellsgoboom



Category: Martin and Lewis
Genre: Angst, M/M, SO MUCH ANGST I'M SORRY, the breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:35:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22234144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellsgoboom/pseuds/shellsgoboom
Summary: July 25th, 1956
Relationships: Jerry Lewis/Dean Martin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you

By the time he's stumbled back to his hotel room the hour is late, or early, or somewhere in between. He doesn't know and doesn't care enough to check. Well meaning friends have followed him, offering support and kind words which all fall on deaf ears. Time has slowed to a halt and the buzzing in his head drowns them all out.

He doesn't remember the show, doesn't know if the audience laughed or how many times he fell to the floor. The bruises will appear in the morning and give him the answer until they fade away, gone without a trace as if they were never there to begin with.

He does remember the moment before they ran out on stage. He'd looked at Dean and for a split second the mask had cracked; Dean looked as haunted and broken as Jerry felt. Jerry didn't dare let himself hope, but his stomach had twisted regardless. If it hadn't been for the music cue urging them on stage he might have broken down right there in the wings.

The memory flashes in his mind now as he staggers to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as his legs give way. He thinks he might throw up, part of him hopes he will so he can get all the feelings out, out, out and flush them away but he hasn't eaten in three days and all he can do is choke on air.

Three days since “do you work alone?” where the only response he could think was _fuck you, Vivian_ and thank heavens for the game show rules forcing him to keep that to himself. Three days since “are you about to work alone?” and the audience gasping, wounded, as if they had any idea what it feels like to be crushed from the inside out.

The voices in his room have quietened and are soon followed by the soft click of the hotel room door closing. With shaking hands he slowly opens the bathroom door and risks a look into the thankfully empty room, the blissful silence disturbed only by the pounding in his head. His bed looks soft and inviting but just a few steps too far, and he opts for sliding down against the wall in the corner instead.

He brings his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, head down and body curled in on itself. _If I make myself small enough I might just disappear completely,_ he thinks, hopes, pleads desperately to any divine power that might be listening. The door has opened and closed again but he doesn't look to see who's walked in. He doesn't care, doesn't want anyone to tell him it's going to be okay. Nothing is going to be okay again and _why won't everyone just leave me be._ Only when the anger begins to build again does he take a deep breath, ready to tell whoever is standing there to get the fuck out, but the words die on his lips when he looks up.

 _I'm hallucinating_ is his first thought. _I've finally lost my goddamn mind._ But no, Dean is standing there in front of him, solid and real and beautiful and Jerry has a hundred questions and no voice. Dean hasn't spoken, but he gestures to the space beside Jerry in a silent question and only moves when he gets a cautious nod in reply. Jerry watches him walk across the room, taking in the tension in his shoulders and red rimmed eyes.

It's only when Dean slides down the wall next to him that Jerry feels the missing piece of himself click back into place. It's frayed and worn round the edges but it fits, they fit, and he doesn't know what he's going to do when Dean leaves and takes it with him again.

“Why'd you come?” he manages to ask, voice dry and cracking. It's not the question he wants to ask, but it's the one he has the courage for.

“Heard you weren't doing so good,” and isn't that the understatement of the year.

Suddenly it's all too much. The ache in his chest is overwhelming and he can't be this close without doing _something._ He turns, reaching out to press one hand against Dean's chest and the other sliding up against his cheek. Dean's hands tentatively move to cover them and Jerry can't breathe. He closes his eyes, squeezes them tight as the tears come unbidden. He thought he had no more tears to cry but lets them fall regardless.

His hand moves softly across Dean's face; fingertips fluttering against the soft skin of his forehead, across his eyelids, down the ridges of his nose and coming to rest on his lips.

“Jer?” he feels his name whispered against the pads of his fingers and shudders.

“Shhh,” Jerry whispers back, “let me memorise you.”

Dean's breath hitches and Jerry leans in to catch it, resting their foreheads together. He opens his eyes to ask permission, and has a moment to wonder _is his heart as broken as mine?_ before Dean nods, barely noticeable but clear enough for Jerry to close the distance.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he's trembling. He can taste the tears on their lips, and beneath them is a swirl of cigarettes and whiskey and _Dean_ and he thinks if this were to be his last breath he'd gladly take it here and now.

He knows it has to end though. Reluctantly he pulls away, forces his hands to let go and twists his mouth into a smile he knows will be seen through but attempts anyway. There's nothing left to say; the end has come and he knows he could fight it, hold on kicking and screaming until his throat was raw and his hands were bloodied and bruised, but he'd lose his grip eventually. Perhaps one day the pain will ease. One day their paths will cross and they will smile and talk and reminisce about the old days as two good friends.

For now, though, he'll sit with his back against the wall and watch as the man who gave him everything walks out the door, taking it all with him.

**Author's Note:**

> The game show referenced is What's My Line, July 22nd 1956 where Jerry was the mystery guest.


End file.
